Colorado
by sarramaks
Summary: A take on Hotch's thoughts during 4.3 Minimal Loss, and what might have happened after.


_My wonderful other half bought me Season 4 of CM on DVD yesterday, and I watched Minimal Loss for the umpteenth time this afternoon, hence this popped into my head! Not very pleased with it at all, but don't want to see it going to waste on my hard drive._

_I'm happy to a second chapter of this, when they get back home and go for dinner number 4, if people are interested._

_It's unlikely When the Blue of the Night will be updated until Wednesday as I ended up writing this and I have a busy day tomorrow :(_

_Hope you enjoy, and please review!_

_**Calling all CM readers and authors! Join us for our first Profiler's Choice CM Awards on ! Help us choose the best of the best of the CM stories on , and let your voice be heard. Anyone with a account is eligible to nominate. Please check out the nominating ballot and rules at Chit Chat on Author's Forum at .net/topic/74868/30888142/1/. All rules and information are on the forum.**_

**Colorado**

It had only been dinner. Three times. But just dinner. There had been no hand holding or kisses goodnight, just fine food and the best conversation he'd had with a member of the opposite sex that didn't involve work that he could remember. In fact, they'd made every effort to stay away from the topic of work; that was until his phone had rang at the end of their second dinner together and they'd been called away on a case.

It had been good to not to have to make excuses, just woeful smiles and the quick drinking of the rest of her wine from Emily, and they'd both gone in Hotch's car to the Academy where the rest of the team were meeting. He'd figured that it was kind of common knowledge, that he and Prentiss were seeing a little of each other outside of work, but it was being ignored as not being anybody else's business. That made it easier. That made him believe that there was the possibility of this working, as long as they were discreet and professional, which he had no doubt they would be.

But he hadn't banked on Colorado.

Morgan's yelling of his name echoed in his head as they had flown out there. It had been the instant where his heartbeat had sped up to what would have been a dangerous rate for someone less fit than him at his age, and he'd struggled to maintain any level of composure on that flight. Everything else had become muted, his heartbeat taking over his ears, feeling his pulse points almost burst out of his body, and knowing that he was aging at an abnormal rate at the predicament of having two agents in the compound. Two of his agents; one a friend also, and the other someone who had the potential to become more than a friend.

It hadn't been the smoothest of friendships between himself and Emily. She'd had to prove herself, but she had done so quickly, and then she'd had to do the same with Gideon. Sometimes she'd overstepped the mark, at first anyway, but later, after Haley, he'd found that aspect of her attractive.

He'd had to hand the negotiating to Rossi for a multitude of reasons. Yes, Rossi had strong ties with both Reid and Emily as well, but the desperation that Hotch had to get them out of there was on a different level, and it was at that point Hotch had realised there was more to it than dinner three times.

As the sun had set on that first night in Colorado, and he'd tried to grab a few minutes sleep in the trailer in which Hostage Rescue had set up as their base, he'd began to let his mind run across the terrain that was haunting him. Reid was not confident enough to be in there. While his mind worked at a hundred miles per hour, physically he doubted himself. He was no action man; no Derek Morgan and Hotch wondered what Cyrus was putting him through.

In some ways, he was worried less about Emily. She was tough, strong, mentally and physically, and he knew she would manage better than any other agent would.

But that wasn't the point. His chest ached ferociously and he found he had to inhale deeply to stop any fallout from his eyes, hoping Rossi didn't turn around and see him, although he doubted that Rossi would be a much better state. He tried to focus on Reid, hoping, praying, that he was alright; that he could be mentally strong enough to cope with the situation. He didn't want to think about Emily; to think about what they could do to her in there, the extra horrors she could go through.

"This is why we write manuals on how to deal with these events," he heard Rossi say. "Because if we had to make up what to do now we'd think with something other than our brains."

Hotch looked up and nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak yet,

"You've lost agents before when you were in SWAT."

"Yes. Three. It's not something I want to repeat." Hotch caught sight of Rossi's face lit by the grey light of a monitor.

"We won't lose Spencer or Emily," he said. "You know we won't."

"When Cyrus was about to give the name... he said 'she' and I..." he looked away from Rossi. He wasn't going to forget that moment easily. When they were home he swore he'd take Emily to a thousand dinners in any place she liked just to try and erase those few seconds and he wouldn't tell Reid to be quiet for a week.

"I know. I'll see her in the morning. When I take the supplies. I'll see her and Reid and they'll be okay, Aaron. I know they will," Rossi said, but they were words that could not comfort Hotch because neither of them had a crystal ball. They couldn't predict this.

* * *

He'd watched Rossi walk across the dirt from the truck, his hands in his pockets, an epitome of calm from a distance. Early morning sun gave the area a serenity it didn't deserve, the blue sky hazy above them. As Rossi drew closer Hotch could see the apprehension on his face; lines that were almost imperceptible were clearer and his eyes lacked their usual shine.

"How did they look?" Hotch asked as soon as Rossi was in earshot.

"As you'd expect. Reid looks afraid, uncertain. That may actually help him in dealing with Cyrus. Emily looked tired and pale," Rossi said, looking at him. "She's tough, Hotch. We know she's strong. It's Reid I worry more about – if he panics."

"He won't," Hotch said. "He's always made it through before."

"You're confident, Aaron. You can stop feeling so tense," Rossi said, baiting him.

Hotch shook his head. "Not until they're both out of there."

Then the wait continued, eating him up inside like a parasite; feeding off his fear.

* * *

_I can take it._

He wasn't sure if he could.

He'd gone outside afterwards and looked at the sky, the stillness of it. It was the same just before a storm; a fluffy of a breeze before a violent outbreak. He couldn't stay inside right now. Rossi had the HRT agents and the sheriff's men under control, and Hotch needed five minutes to just be on his own, collect his thoughts.

They'd all been kicked with each blow Emily had taken. The consummate agent; thinking of the team, of the operation overall, not of herself, trying to save herself. She'd saved Reid, but Hotch would never tell him that. If Reid had owned up to being FBI he would have been knocked completely unconscious or worse. He was male; their fury would have had no bounds. And Emily was a protector, and her own cost. He'd have done the same thing in position.

He'd heard what Emily had undergone and right now he was allowing himself to have a moment outside of their professional relationship. He wanted to have been able to protect her, to go in there and take his hands to Cyrus' neck, to put his arms around her and hold her.

But it had only been dinner. Three times. There could be no feelings other than friendship on her part, he was aware of that. Their three dates could have just been pleasant evenings out for her, and she might want nothing more. Hotch looked up at the sky. Nothing had changed. He went back inside the trailer.

He'd managed to not run towards her as she came out of the compound, her face bruised and swollen. Her eyes registered his presence, then she turned around, looking for Reid and Morgan, her tone becoming plaintive as they failed to appear once the explosion had taken place. He'd then been caught up in another tangled web; making threats to the various members of the media of what he would do if they didn't get off his crime scene.

The next time he saw her, she and Reid were being escorted towards an ambulance, both protesting. Hotch strode over there, getting in the van with them.

"You both need to be checked out," he said, looking from one to the other. "We need the all clear on your health before we can fly back."

Reid nodded, while Emily rested her head back against the ambulance wall. "Hotch," Reid said. "Why don't you go with Emily, and I'll hop in another ambulance?"

Hotch wondered whether Reid was being subtle; if he and Emily had discussed their meals during the first night in the compound, or whether he was feeling bad because Emily had identified herself as the agent. He nodded, whatever was his motivation, it would do them both some good to be apart for a few hours, otherwise they could well start to analyse the situation whilst not in the right frame of mind instead of letting it rest awhile.

Hotch watched the medic administer something to Emily's face where the bruising was at its worse. Emily winced at the pressure and Hotch fought the urge to push the medic away and do it himself, but that would have helped no body.

"If you keep hold of that, Agent Prentiss, we'll head off to the hospital." The medic stepped out of the ambulance and looked at Hotch. "I'll give you some time to talk. Wouldn't normally do this, but she's not in danger of falling unconscious or anything, so I'll leave her in your hands for twenty minutes. Shout if you need anything."

Hotch nodded, the slamming of the ambulance doors hurting his ears some.

Emily noticed him flinch. "You need to get that checked out again. Make sure everything's healing as it should."

"You've just been through all that and you're watching out for _my_ health?" he said, unable to smile. "You did good in there."

She nodded, smiling weakly. "Thank you. Reid - "

"He'll be okay."

"He feels guilty.

"That's natural. He thinks he should have protected you. He'll get over it," he said, noticing her pain as the ambulance drove over an uneven surface.

"I hope so." She looked at him and he felt as though she was reading his mind. "I'm sorry," she said.

He felt confused. "What for?"

"For how you all must have felt over the past couple of days."

He knew the 'all' was redundant. "Rossi's experienced at keeping his head. Otherwise I'd have knocked the door down to get to you."

She smiled again; it was still watery. "Good. You want to grab a coffee at the hospital?"

This time he managed to laugh. "If you aren't mobbed by JJ. She'll probably meet us there."

* * *

The whole team had ended up being there, milling about the wards, checking in on some of the people who had come out of the compound. Morgan had found an unused relatives room and had gone through the moment when he had shot Cyrus. Hotch's team had done well; they had followed procedure impeccably as well as using their intelligence, and for a brief moment he allowed himself to feel proud.

Strangely, Reid had been kept in hospital overnight with two broken ribs, while Emily was discharged, her wounds superficial. They'd travelled back with Rossi and JJ, JJ falling asleep on Rossi's shoulder before being woken once they'd reached the hotel Hotch had booked. They needed sleep, then a day to go through their statements and to finish off the interviews that they would be asked to do. Then they could return home.

Dawn had begun; its soft rays flirting with the remains of the night. He had the room next to Emily, the others were across the corridor, and as he started to let sleep claim him for a few hours he thought of her lying in bed and wondered if the day's events were playing on her mind.

A soft knock at his door interrupted him, and he left his dishevelled sheets to answer it, not bothering with a t-shirt; he was in no fit state to make an effort for any early morning visitors, and if it were urgent, he was pretty sure the knock would have been louder.

He opened the door without checking who it was, and found Emily stood there; skin pale except for the parts that were swollen and bruised. Her hair was tousled and he figured she'd been tossing and turning in bed, trying to get to sleep but struggling.

He let her into his room with question, without speaking and she went straight to his bed, sitting down on it, her eyes half closing.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have knocked; but Morgan's still at the hospital with Reid; JJ's heavily pregnant and tired and hormonal, and I am _never_ knocking on Rossi's door in the kind of middle of the night."

He nodded, trying to smile but failing. "Can't sleep?"

She shook her head. "Every time I close my eyes I'm back there. I know this won't last; that it's my mind's way of healing, but I need to sleep, Aaron."

He walked back to the bed and sat next to her, knocking the sheets further back. "You want to stay here with me?" he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

"Totally inappropriate. I mean, it's only been three dinners," she said, and he heard the humour in her voice. She'd been counting too, but now wasn't the time to discuss their next meal out.

He nodded, making sure his eyes were smiling even if he mouth couldn't. "Totally inappropriate," he echoed.

She shifted under the sheets to side where he hadn't been lay and turned to face him so she was lying on the side of her face that had been least affected by Cyrus. "Thanks," she said, exhaustion apparent, her eyes barely open. "It might help me to sleep, knowing that I'm not alone."

"Sure," he said. "I'll be here until morning – our morning anyhow. And it's best you're with someone. The doctor said you shouldn't be alone." He gave their actions credence, automatically thinking of what he would tell Strauss should she have walked in here right now.

He slipped back in bed, stopping rational thought and instead letting himself follow instinct. He moved his head close to hers and put a hand around her waist and onto the small of her back, too tired and exhausted to think much about the way her waist curved, or the soft skin under his fingers. That was for another night when his mind could comprehend something other than his own tiredness and the fact that she was still alive.

Alive and available for dinner.

He heard her breathing become deeper, her face losing some of the tension it had when she came into the room, and he felt his own eyes fall shut, before falling into sleep for the first time in almost forty-eight hours.

He didn't wake for six hours; sleeping in an anonymous bed, in an anonymous hotel in Colorado, with his body moulded next to a woman's who was anything other than anonymous, dreaming of a fourth dinner, that could be a prelude to something more.


End file.
